I visit my parents every 4 months almost but this December I am going to go to my ancestral home. My village. The place where my Mom, Dad grew up as kids. The place where my grandparents lived.

I want to go there. To walk in the fields. To just feel the fresh air. To ride on the village roads. To hear the stories of what women want to say. To go and teach in a local village school. To gather and chatter with my aunts and uncles and their kids. To show them what the world holds. To show them how the world works. To motivate them to do something better. To try and help the village in some of their processes. To tell the little girls that they can be big and strong and successful. May be just infuse a little bit of hope.

But most of all I want to visit to relive a simple life. A life which is free from artificial worries and unnecessary schedules.

It is Charles Dickens as of today and I have been able to say that in a really really long time. I could never decide who my favorite author was! But after watching ‘A Christmas Carol’ and recalling the story which I had read as a kid, I am more than sure that its Dickens.

I can still remember the impact ‘A Christmas Carol’ had on me. I was deeply moved then and I am deeply moved now. What a way to create a story. Master of his craft!

She had come again to the yellow door. It was final. It was meant to be. It was her destiny and she accepted the destiny. Yellow door had beckoned her again and she presented herself. If you saw her from afar, standing there in front of the door in a red dress with small white floral patterns on it, she looked like a decoration.

It was 8 in the morning. The grass was still wet with dew, birds were still chirping, sun was coming out lazily and the trees were being gently swayed by the wind. It was a lovely morning. One of the loveliest morning she had seen lately. She could feel it within her. Her heart and mind were as fresh as the dew and with each breath she took in copious amounts of the air , its aroma filling her lungs completely. She had not worn her watch today. “Not today”, she had decided while leaving home. Her hair kept falling on her face and she let it be. She let the wind play with it. She did not clip them tightly like other days today. “Not today”, she had decided. Her feet were naked. She had thrown her shoes away when she got down from the bus. “Not today”, she had decided. Her eyes had no kohl, her lips no lipstick. There were no earrings in her ears and no rings on her fingers. There was just one adornment which she could not have parted with even if she wanted to. And this she was wearing. It was a locket in a silver chain, shaped like a rose bud, carved in silver and gold. It shone whenever sun’s rays fell on it and she could see the reflection on the wall in the front. It pleased her to see different patterns. It pleased her greatly to just see the world around her and take it in as much as she could.

She had been standing in front of the yellow door for a full hour now taking in the simple but very real beauty all around her. But now, it was 9 and it was time. The sun was staring a bit harshly now. The birds had flown away. The dew had evaporated. The wind was becoming warmer and angrier and her feet were hurting. Her hair was tangled and rough. It was 9 and it was time. The yellow door stood there and she stood in front of it. It was time to go in. It creaked a bit and slowly started to part from the middle opening towards outside. For a moment, she panicked. Just for a moment but then something called to her from the inside and she started smiling. First, she moved her right foot forward, then left, and then right again and then left and then right and then left and then, she was inside the door. It closed. It closed just as slowly as it had opened. It was 9 and it was time. Sun beamed mightily and the trees continued to dance.

However, there were just a few raindrops here and there falling from the sky. Soon, there would be rain,a thunderous downpour and the rosebud locket would come floating out from inside. It would flow with the water. It would flow all the way to the next town where a small girl would find it and take it to her mommy. They would admire the beautiful locket and mom would make her daughter wear it. Their lives will go on as perfectly as possible for the next 20 years and then it would be time again.

The door would call for it never forgets those who wear the bud. It cannot leave the bud. It would want it once again like every other time. 20 years from now, again it would be 9 and it would be time. The yellow door will call!